


Look At Me And Tell Me What You See

by Anattemptofawriter



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (the violent kind), Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, F/F, Feral!Jon, M/M, Minor Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Minor Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5, Threats of Violence, feral!daisy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anattemptofawriter/pseuds/Anattemptofawriter
Summary: This started out as a what-if fic that I never posted and now it's canon divergent. Spoilers for Season 5. Martin has made it to the Panopticon and is on his way to stop Elias and the apocalypse, but runs into some trouble on the way up.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Kudos: 12





	Look At Me And Tell Me What You See

"How can you just stand there?" He demanded, "After everything we've been through- after everything Elias has put us through!" Quiet rage flowed through him. This was all her fault. She had put the statement in the package. Everything that happened since Basira was directly responsible for. All the pain, all the death, losing Jon.

Martin's mind was working overtime. He had finally been able to reach where Elias and Basira had been hiding out. They had been in the Panopticon, of course. Where else would they have been? A thread tugged at the back of Martin’s mind that he could have found them faster if he had just opened himself up to the help. He ignored it. He didn’t have to give in to that just yet, thanks to Helen. She had found him a few days after he found himself on his own. She brought him to the Panopticon, saving him from The Darkness that had surrounded him. Martin had asked if she wanted to come with him but she adamantly refused. The all-seeing hell tower was a little too Lord of the Rings for her. So he went in by himself. 

As he climbed the stairs seemed endless. It was still strange to Martin that he couldn’t tire. Had this not been the apocalypse he would have had to at least stop and drink some water, not that he needed to drink water either. He wondered if Elias had added them just to be a nuisance. That would be something he would do. Either way, the very building was messing with him. He closed his eyes and tried to see, really see, where he was. When he opened his eyes there was a hallway that branched off the stairwell. He followed it, but as he continued walking he realized that the hallway never changed. The same light grey walls stretched on indefinitely. He closed his eyes again and focused. When he opened them again the end of the hallway seemed much closer. He continued on until he finally got to the door. Martin reached out but hesitated before he could turn the knob. The door felt different, grounded, more real than anything else he had encountered since entering the Panopticon. He knew that if he opened the door there would be no retreating, no running away. He would succeed or die here, and if he died, at least he would die trying to set things right. He would die fulfilling Jon's last wish. His heart ached with the absence of his love, the missing hand in his. The Eye had taken everything from him. Now he was going to take something back. He breathed deep, checked that his hunting knife was still secured in his belt, and opened the door. 

Static buzzed in his ears and Martin blinked in surprise.“Took you long enough. I didn’t think you’d ever get out of the stairs. It would be a shame to see you spend the apocalypse getting your cardio in.” His eyes focused on a lean figure. Basira stood there smiling at him, mocking him. She looked oddly pristine. Her clothes were clean. Her hijab was neatly pinned into place. It was like she had been living outside of the apocalypse somehow. She was the last thing between him and all the answers he had been searching for, between him and retribution for Jon. 

Jon… he had been holding it together for so long. He had tried to keep a brave face for Martin; tried to hide the worst of his darkest cravings, but Martin could see through it. Martin had always been able to see through Jon's shallow attempts at covering up. He had watched the man he loved slowly erode into something less than, something feral. The air had changed the day it happened, like how you can feel a storm in your chest before the rain begins to pour. The moment he had finally lost the man he loved would stay with him until Martin died. He would never forget the way Jon looked at him right before he lost control. As if he was trying to apologize, asking for forgiveness, telling Martin how much he loved him, all in one look. One moment his eyes were filled with impossible promises made in a small cabin; the gentle whispers and dreams made in defiance of the apocalypse. He watched as they all shattered. Their departure was reserved just for Martin. The horror as those shattered pieces turned into eyes, too many eyes to read. His Jon was gone, now replaced by a monster. He- no, it now stared at Martin with a ravenous hunger echoing through its gaze. Jon's light, his sadness, his pain, they were gone and they had been replaced by hunger.

The feral thing stalked forward. It sniffed at Martin. Memories were dragged to the surface. Memories he had long repressed. Memories he had never even told Jon. It was one of the worst of the nights when Jane Prentiss had stalked him in his apartment. The way she had whispered to him, the worms wriggled so loud, the worms, god they had been everywhere. He didn’t think he would live through the night…

A sudden impact saved Martin from the statement that was being stolen from his mind. His head was swimming. With a shaky hand, Martin reached up. His heart was racing as it came away red and sticky. The monster smiled impossibly wide as it stared down on him with its too many eyes. His stomach turned. The sight of his love smiling with such twisted cruelty, it broke his heart. He scrambled to his feet. He could fix this. He could get his love back. 

Martin whispered Jon's name and staggered to his feet. "Jon… Jon, look- look at me. What do you see? Look at me! Jon, please, I can't lose you, too. You’re all I have left!"

Hot tears rolled down his face. He was hoping to drag him out of the Beholding's grasp just as Jon had done for Martin in the Lonely. “Jon, tell me what you see! Jon please!”  
None of it worked as the monster that is formerly known as Jonathan Sims crept closer, eyes widening as it saw more in him- desolation, lonely, web. The thread at the back of Martin’s mind had tingled then too. It wanted to be pulled, to be let loose. It had scared him. What it would mean to pull on the thread, all the consequences. It would be another door that couldn’t be closed. It could be easy though. Just a simple pull and- 

A growl brought Martin back to his predicament. Stumbling back, he realized this monster was going to rip whatever darkness and terror Martin had experienced straight from his head, and it was going to feast on it. God knows he had seen enough terror to feed Jon for years. The monster before him glinted realization in its eyes as they each took another step. His hope of saving Jon evaporated as the monster's biggest eye, a huge, demented, yellow thing located dead center of its chest, peeled itself open. Fear seized his heart as Martin reached into his jacket pocket. His hand closed around his last hope. The thing that had been there since the beginning. The tape recorder. Maybe if Jon heard who he used to be, those who loved him, it would be enough to pull him from the evil that had taken him. He pressed down until he heard a click. Slowly the birthday tape came to life. The voices were slow as if it were being played at half speed. The laughter was distorted. The voices were morphed but the memories were real. The joy, the togetherness, the love, it would bring him back. It had to. 

Slowly, deliberately, it focused on Martin, and suddenly all he could hear a cacophony of terror. The voices ebbed down one by one as the eye widened, it's pupil reduced itself to a slit as all of the smaller eyes slowly merged into it, like bubbles in a boiling pot, until Martin could hear his own thoughts standing out stark against the five… four… three voices left. Martin felt a searing heat build up in his head as the monster’s eyes narrowed. Just as his would-be statement bubbled to the surface, it evaporated. Without warning, the monster reared back and let out a terrifying screech, it's one eye bursting into infinite sets of eyes scrambling away from his sights like oil floating on water. As soon as it regained its bearings, it fixed Martin with a look, confusion, and bloodlust, and then bolted. Martin liked to think that moment was Jon's last act of defiance against Elias. 

Whatever it was, it then lunged after a random woman who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Her fear now belonged to the Eye. Martin would never forget her screams as the monster tore her worst fears from her. As those screams echoed in Martin's ears, he ran. That wasn't his Jon anymore. Martin would never forgive himself for giving up on his love so quickly, but what choice did he have. Maybe if he had stayed; if he had fought a little harder…

He couldn't think about that now. He pushed the thoughts of guilt and shame to the back of his mind and stared down a woman he had once considered a friend.

“Basira please, we don’t have time for this. If we don’t fix this soon-”

“Still on about your little conspiracy theory then?” She scoffed at him. Martin felt the force of her question in his mind.

“It’s real, Basira, and it will be the end of all of us. If we don’t stop Elias it will be so much worse than either of us could imagine,”

“I don’t know Martin. I can imagine quite a lot. Especially given the circumstances. Besides, it’s my job to kill you and unlike you, I’m actually qualified for my job.”

"What happened, Basira? What could he have possibly said to make you betray us like this? What would Daisy think if-"

Martin stopped short as Basira drew a gun from her side, "Don't you dare talk about her. You know nothing about what happened at the Institute. What she had to give up," Her usual steady hand trembled slightly as she spoke.

"So all this is for her then," It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

"Of course it is, Martin! While you were off getting cozy with Peter Lucas, the rest of us- we were on our own. Never knowing if we were going to be next to disappear,"

"It wasn't like that and you know it. I was trying to protect you!" It was true but the words felt hollow. As if he had lost the right to say them once he had started to embrace the Lonely.

"You don't get to tell me what it was like. I'm doing what I have to," Martin could see the rage in Basira's eyes. A righteous rage that she had repressed, ignored, and honed into a bullet meant just for him. He realized that Basira in this moment truly hated him and the realization scared him. He needed to calm down. Fear would only amplify the situation. He needed to change the conversation. 

"So...so what, you would condemn the world to be feasted on by the Fears because- because you love her? Is that it?"  
"Like you aren't doing the same thing right now?" Martin swallowed. Her anger that had been threatening to boil over, stopped cold. The Detective was back.

“You hypocrite. You would stand there and tell me that you wouldn't go to hell and back for Jon? Like you didn't sacrifice yourself again and again on the altar of Jon. All in hopes that he might notice how desperately in love you were. It was pathetic to watch really." She paused. A cruel smile playing on her lips. "How is he by the way? I heard he ran off and left you all alone. Ran away from you and back to us. Where he belongs. You know, once he managed to climb the tower of the Panopticon, he never did say a single word about you, not that he’s saying much these days,” She laughed, “He doesn’t even seem to remember you. Guess he didn't love you all that much after all. Maybe if what you two had was real you might have been able to stop him from gloriously killing all those people. Then again, who could ever love someone like you?"

Those words hit Martin like a truck and suddenly, he was back in the Lonely. Basira became impossible to focus on. Her shape was fuzzy and grey. The static was deafening until there was just the sound of soft waves lapped gently on a long-dead beach. Here, it all made sense. Of course, Jon didn't love him, he'd just been using him. His mother had been right all along. There was nothing in Martin worth loving. He was weak and useless. He should have been able to save Jon, but he couldn’t even do that! Jon would be so disappointed in him. Of course, he had been right all along, what use was he? Maybe he should just let Basira kill him and be done with it. At least then he wouldn't have to face the apocalypse alone…

No. He shook his head, chasing away the static flooding into his ears. He wasn't going to let the Lonely consume him anymore. Jon had loved him. He knew that. His mother was a bitter old woman, dead and buried. Martin knew his worth. He wasn’t lonely anymore! No one was going to take that away from him again, least of all Basira. He wasn’t that person anymore. He had survived the apocalypse even after Jon had become whatever he was now. Martin had survived Peter Lucas and Elias. He had survived everything that happened at the Institute. Martin had a goal. He just had to get his Jon back. It had to be possible - there was no way he would accept living through the apocalypse without him. He would survive Basira.

"Because of what you did to him Basira. Whatever has happened to Jon, whatever he has become, it's because you gave him that statement from Elias. This is your fault as much as it is Elias'. You let the Fears come to this world and feed on us,"

Basira rushed forward and grabbed the front of his shirt. The force drove him into a wall. The air rushed out of Martin’s lungs as pain pricked at his back. He grabbed her wrist and tried desperately to shove her off, but he could never match her physicality. Her gun hovered centimeters from Martin’s face. Basira’s eyes were wild.

"You still don't get it, do you? You're either a part of the fears or you're what they feast on. And I wasn't about to let myself, or anyone I care about, become food. This is the only way..." She hesitated, unsaid words lingering in the air. Martin slowly reached behind his back and his hand closed around the knife he had tucked into his belt.

"Daisy wouldn't want you to do this Basira. She wouldn't want you to become like her," Martin pleaded.

“This is the only way to get her back! She’s,” Tears welled at the corners of her eyes. “she’s like Jon, and killing you is the only thing that will save her!”

“Did Elias tell you that?” Basira looked away and Martin began to ease the knife out of his belt. If he couldn’t convince her he had to be ready, “And you believed him? Come on, Basira! You’re smarter than that! He is using you. Can’t you see-” 

“Shut up!” Martin flinched. Basira had never screamed like that before. Martin had no time to think further on that before Basira pistol-whipped him. The force of the strike caused his head to crash into the wall behind him. Pain throbbed everywhere. Dully he realized that the knife was no longer in his hand. He tried to look for it but his eyes wouldn’t focus. He blinked but something thick and viscous that stung his eyes but would not be simply blinked away. 

“Basira-” Martin said thickly.

“No!” Martin was too dazed to fight as she forced him to his knees. She took a step back appraising him. “You’re done talking,”

Martin wiped at his eyes and his hand came away red. He tried to breathe deeply to try and calm the way of nausea that washed over him but it was all too much. He couldn't believe this is how he was going to die, at the hand of a friend, alone, probably concussed, kneeling on the floor. He slowly looked up at Basira and waited. 

He must have looked pathetic because what she said next broke his heart. "I'm sorry, Martin. I really am. It's not personal, it... It just has to be done. I’d do anything for her. She’d do the same for me," She leveled the gun. Fear and desperation seized his heart. He wouldn’t die like this. 

“It’s ok Basira.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“What?” Confusion marred her features.

He spoke slowly, deliberately. “I understand. What it is you’re doing. Killing me, that is just how you protect her.” 

“Shut up,” She glared down at him.

“Why? Shouldn’t a dying man get his last words?” He raised his chin trying to reclaim some of his dignity. 

“No,” She glared at him with such animosity, “I told you, you’re done talking!”

“I forgive you Basira.”

Basira stopped moving. She stared down at him, eyes sharp and intense. She stared through him; into him. “Don’t lie to me, Martin.” Her voice was cold and unwavering.

“I’m not.” Martin surprised himself. Basira was just following orders. She was just as trapped as he had been. Basira was right. He was a hypocrite. How could he be angry at her for trying to protect the one she loves?

“You should hate me.”

“I don’t hate you Basira. You’re my friend. A good person who has been forced into an impossible situation. Just make it quick.” He gave her a weak smile.

“Martin, you have to understand. You’re either food for the Fears or you help feed them. No amount of talking will change that,” She cocked her gun and aimed it at his head.

"Basira, wait!" Martin lurched forward pushing the gun to the ceiling just as it went off. He must have caught her off guard because she stumbled backward. While she was unsteady, Martin pushed his advantage. He grabbed at Basira’s ankle and pulled it towards him. She fell with a grunt, the gun spinning from her hand. A sudden boot to his face left Martin coughing up blood. He felt Basira start to scramble away. Blindly he grabbed at her legs. She cursed at him. His hand found purchase just as his eyes cleared and he pulled. She slid on the tile floor. Martin scrambled on top of her using his full weight to pin her down.

“Basira, stop!”

He felt Basira shift underneath him and suddenly Martin was on his back. She punched him. Ringing filled his ears. Another impact hit his face.

“You idiot.” She hissed. “This could have been painless.” Another punch connected to Martin’s face. 

“You wouldn’t have felt anything!” She put her hands around his throat and began to squeeze. Martin tried to scratch at her face but Basira’s arms kept him at bay. She squeezed harder.

“But you just wanted to suffer, don’t you?” Static began to fill the air. “Are you afraid to die, Martin?” She looked at Martin as if waiting for him to answer. Realization dawned on her face and she released some of the pressure on his neck.

Martin coughed and spat out blood. He looked up at Basira, the blood on her hands, the rage in her eyes, and in this moment, “Yes.” 

“Good. At least you’ll finally be of use,” As she said this her face betrayed no emotion, and she began to squeeze. Martin didn’t want to die like this. There had to be something he could do.

A memory flashed in his mind. He slammed his arms down on Basira’s elbows with all the force he could muster. Basira gasped in surprise; her elbows buckled but held firm. Before she had a chance to recover he slammed down again. Her grip on his neck broke. Martin took in a deep breath and shoved Basira off of him. He rolled away putting as much space between him and Basira.

He panted as he got to his feet, silently thanking the library for offering that self-defense class. "I’m not their food but I’m not their plaything either. Which is exactly what you’ve become," Martin looked at his friend, “You don’t have to be though. You can take your life. We could go up there, save Jon, and put a stop to all of this, together. We could kill Elias, together,”

Her whole body was shaking as she got to her knees. She was looking everywhere except at him, “You know I can’t do that Martin. If I don’t kill you soon he’ll know. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill Daisy.” She stood up and locked eyes with him. Her hard exterior was cracking. He saw all of her pain, her fear, her sorrow. She was a victim of all of this just as much as he had been. How could Martin have been so stupid? Elias and the Eye, they had forced her into this role she hated, just like it had with Melanie, Daisy, with Jon. Martin had been so blinded with his want for revenge he had forgotten to ask her if she had even put the statement in the package. He had just assumed the worst of her. He wanted to hurt someone because he was hurting. He had become someone he promised himself he never would be. Someone consumed by hate. Someone who had lost all of his kindness. He was lashing out at the first person he could but Basira didn’t deserve that. She was his friend, even if she was trying to kill him.

“No, not if we work together, Basira,” She said nothing.

“You know he’ll kill you once you stop being useful to him.” Basira took a step back, tension visible in her shoulders.

“What use is there for a Detective once there’s nothing to solve?” 

“We are literally in his seat of power Martin! What do you think will happen? We’ll just walk up there and go ‘Oh hi Elias! Just here to kill you. By the way, mind if we have the archivist back and end the world you worked centuries and killed thousands of people for?’ I’m sure that’s going to go so well,” She scoffed.

“I’ll use my connection to the Lonely as a shortcut. We’ll surprise Elias. Wake Jon up from whatever feral nightmare he's trapped in and stop the apocalypse!”

“Just like that? If you think that will work you really are as stupid as you look. And besides, how are you going to ‘Wake Jon up’ anyways? He’s not even human anymore,” 

“He is human!” Martin snapped. He didn’t know if his words were true but it was what he needed to believe. He took a breath, “And I’m going to connect to him with these,” He opened his backpack to reveal dozens of tapes. “We just have to get some more tape recorders to play them,” He looked back up at Basira with hope and determination, “We can do this. We can save the people we love.”

Barisa looked at him with such trepidation it nearly broke his heart. “You really think this is going to work?

“I know it will.”

There was a long silence. For a moment Martin thought Basira was going to lunge at him. “You’re absolutely insane. You know that right?”

Martin smiled. “One optimistic mad lad at your service!” He laughed at himself. God, he had forgotten what it felt like, to laugh.

“Come on,” Basira went to go pick up her gun from where it had landed during the fight, “I know where the old Institute is. The building has changed since, well you know, the end of the world,” She chuckled. It was good to hear her laugh. “And now the building will probably fight us so we better hurry.”

“Lead the way Detective.” 

“Don’t call me that. It means something else now. It’s not like how it was before,”

“Sorry! Sorry, I…” Martin trailed off.

“Don’t worry about it, Martin. If this plan of yours works we won’t have to remember anymore.” She smiled at him. “Let’s go save the world I guess,”

He smiled back at her, “Let’s go save the world.”


End file.
